Shattered
by Lucky709
Summary: Arthur Kirkland may be no mad scientist, but even he should have learned Dr Jekyll's lesson... and you thought Mr Hyde was bad enough. England/fem!Canada
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Happy holidays, you guys! *waves hi to everyone* So I'm Canadian—you can probably tell by the spelling—and new to this fandom and writing in general and would like to thank **Maige** and **IlluminatedShadow** for turning me into a UKCan shipper. Seriously though, you guys are amazing!

So, this all started because of a couple of England/fem!Canada fics I read and I fell in love with the idea. But hardly anyone writes for them, so I thought I'd take a crack at it, but I was too chicken to try until I reread _The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_. Seriously, what's better than Arthur and split personalities?

Unfortunately, all the good stuff doesn't start until the next chapter or two. Now bear in mind this might be terrible, but it's my first time, so be easy on me!

Just to clear things up, Carlos is Cuba, Willem is the Netherlands, Belle is Belgium, Chun Yan is fem!China, PK is India—named after my Indian grandfather, Antonia is fem!Spain; Alastair, Aidan, and Aled are Scotland, Ireland, and Wales respectively; and Catherine is Monaco.

Wait, maybe I should have had this beta-ed first. Oh well, on with the show!

**Warnings****:** Language, possible OOCness

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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><p>Arthur Kirkland, the personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and North Ireland, was not a nice man. It was a fact that many nations agreed on. Hell, even Arthur himself with his knife-like teeth and equally sharp tongue was inclined to agree.<p>

But that didn't mean that the island of a man felt nothing. His emotions surged and fell, churned as deep as the sea from which his country was born. He felt so much that it physically ached, but he usually choked his feelings back down every time they bubbled to the surface.

Now normally, Arthur could deal with it. Truth to be told, he was a bit of a right bastard.

He could mercilessly mock Alfred about his ever expanding waistline, break his brothers' bones without a second thought, try to castrate that derelict Francis every time the frog tried to sneak a quick grope—and Arthur would have succeeded if it weren't for America trying to wrestle him or that one time where… what was her name again? Oh right, _Canada_, of all people dragged him away using his own tie as a leash—and come out of it on top of the world without caring what anyone said.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me._

Or so he had thought until Madeline had started taking to telling him she was Canada, not America in that half-exasperated, half-resigned tone of voice every time he approached her—

Before he even had the chance to speak.

Now it wasn't as if she didn't have to correct him before. Arthur made that mistake far too many times than he'd like to admit, but he hadn't expected her words to cut as deep as they did. The nation, whose past was rich with famed playwrights and poets, the man who was educated at Oxford and Cambridge in the literary arts, suddenly found himself at a loss for words. What the hell could he possibly say?

_I know you're Canada? I don't mean to mistake you for Alfred when you're clearly a girl? I want to say I'm sorry, but I don't know how?_

So he kept his distance.

The Canadian had slowly begun to emerge from her shell after being recognized for once at Alfred's Halloween party last year and Arthur had watched her from out of the corner of his eye. Maddie's reaction to the attention was absolutely adorable, he remembered with a quirk of his lips. The former colony had been completely and utterly bewildered; doe-like eyes peeking over the Mordecai Richler book she was trying to hide behind—_Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang_, he believed it was called—face flushed so bright a flustered pink that it drowned out her freckles. She thought that she had done something wrong, not used to being sought out after being overlooked for far too long.

But she was starting to take things in stride one at a time—dancing with Katyusha, getting ice cream with Carlos, smoking a pipe with Willem, making chocolate with Belle, playing hockey with Ivan and the Nordic nations, the occasional trip to the shooting range with Vash, going to Circe du Soleil and Chinatown with Chun Yan, playing the violin with his brothers, bonding with Gilbert and PK over pancakes and maple syrup, sharing stories with Peter, even starting fencing lessons again with Antonia.

He was happy for the northern nation. At least… he ought to have been. Maddie's life was not as lonely as it had once been and there were few more deserving of happiness than her. But it was a happiness that did not include him.

He shook his head roughly, telling himself not to go soft. It was enough for now, getting a kind word and a smile from the Canadian, enough to know that she didn't hate him. And he was pretty bloody sure that he had no right to ask anything more from her.

The corner of his eye caught a flash of red shortly after today's World Conference ended and he turned to see Maddie rummaging through her belongings. She looked no worse for wear, considering she got sat on by Antonia at one point during the meeting. It was completely by accident this time since the fun sized fiesta of a nation had been busy cajoling a sour-faced Lovino into letting her fix his collar. But it was alright in the end as Antonia, maternal as ever, had apologized profusely and cheerfully fussed over the little Canadian _querida_.

One of his fairy friends—he'd recognize Malcolm anywhere—was giggling madly as he tugged on one of her pigtails. Arthur couldn't tell if he was trying to get the nation's attention or annoy her.

A pause…

He blinked.

_Bollocks!_

He flung himself out of his chair and tore across the floor, swearing violently all the way. _That fairy had better not have mistaken her for America! _

* * *

><p>"And where are you going, little brother?" Aled caught Arthur by the elbow and swung him around with that infuriatingly effortless ease. "America is over there." He pointed to the other side of the room where Alfred was in the middle of an impassioned argument with Ivan, arms flailing wildly.<p>

"Sod off, Aled." Arthur muttered darkly, brushing nonexistent lint off his waistcoat. "What the hell is that fairy doing with Canada?"

The sandy haired Welshman calmly observed the scene with a critical eye. Malcolm was perched on Maddie's shoulder and it looked like the fairy was trying to whisper into an ear that only recovered a part of its hearing in the decades after the Halifax explosion.

"Perhaps your friends are a little curious as to why the great and powerful Arthur Kirkland has been mooning over her for the past few months."

"I can do without the sarcasm—and I have not been mooning over her!" he hotly protested. "Do you really want to discuss that right now when the poor girl is being molested?"

"That's affection, you halfwit." Aled turned a blue eyed gaze back to Maddie. "Malcolm's only fixing her hair."

"He shouldn't be touching her at all!"

"I didn't know you cared so much for the girl."

"Did you get a face full of fairy dust again?" Arthur felt like tearing out his hair at this point. "What would possess you to think otherwise!"

Of course he cared for her. He had never _not_ cared for her. He took a deep ragged breath, straightening his tie in an effort to force himself to calm down.

"What's her name then?" Arthur wanted to slap the smirk off his brother's face. "You can't go around calling her 'not-Alfred' every time your memory gets dodgy."

Contrary to popular belief, the Brit was well aware of the soft spot his brothers had for the northern nation. She took in so many of their brats that long lost dialects flourished and thrived along the east coast of her country. Really, the chit was too nice for her own good and it had earned her three more overprotective big brothers.

And one overprotective little brother once Peter was included. That tin can brat of a micronation had been practically attached to Maddie ever since the day she gave him a piggy back ride and told him about her log dancing days, all the while granting him that kind closed-eyed smile of hers.

"It's not Matilda. You've tried that one before."

"I know that already, you prat. It's the name of her favourite Roald Dahl book—"

"Not Marguerite either—"

"Bloody shut up already—"

"—or 'you with the beavers and polar bears'—"

"—never going to let me live that one down—"

"I swear," Aled continued disapprovingly. "You forget her name as often as that bear of hers—"

"—_for fuck's sake, she's not Rumpelstiltskin!_" Arthur snarled viciously, eyes flashing with white hot anger. "And it's Madeline! I don't care what Alfred or Ivan and his sisters or the Nordics call her," he continued, ignoring the smug look on the Welshman's face. "It's not that ridiculous baby name—what kind of a bleeding name is _Vinland_ anyways? Not _Magda_, not Mads… _MADELINE!_ Do I need to bloody spell it out for you?"

Aled coolly raised an eyebrow as he waited for him to finish his tirade. "And how long have you been holding that in? No need to get your knickers in a twist, little brother."

Arthur barely resisted the snap reaction to glare at his brother. Realization soon set in with a slow smirk. "I got it right, didn't I?"

"Huh. So you finally remember her name for once."

"You don't have to look so bloody surprised," he grumbled, sharply turning away. "I don't always forget about her."

The Welshman shot him an unimpressed look. "So…" he said, dragging out the 'o'. "Why do you still mistake Madeline for Alfred when she's clearly a girl?"

"…"

"…"

Damn it all.

It was understandable, if not excusable, when the North American siblings were children, where they looked too fucking alike that he kept mistaking one for the other.

And it did not help that they occasionally switched clothes so they could prank him, Alfred in a rumpled white muslin dress and sagging red stockings, matching ribbons adorning his hair; Maddie in a collared shirt stuffed into baggy trousers and braces that kept slipping off her shoulders, braided hair tucked under one of Alfred's caps.

The only way he could tell them apart was that Alfred's eyes were brilliant blue while Madeline's were soft violet. But after the two were all grown up and Maddie's wheat blonde curls—a shade or two darker than the wine bastard's—deepened into a warm honey brown and her nose and cheeks became peppered with golden freckles after summers of playing out in the sun too long?

The resemblance between the two suddenly wasn't all that striking anymore.

He visibly deflated, the tips of his ears turning an impressive shade of scarlet. "… I hate you," he growled with a glower aimed at Aled.

"Love you too, little brother."

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><p>Madeline felt the fluttering of wings as a stubborn stray curl was brushed aside, heard the tinkling of bells and faint musical laughter before she saw the fuzzy image of a fairy nestled on her shoulder. The sight wasn't an unusual one for her since she had been able to see those elusive spirits of old Canadian folklore, powerful monsters and intangible cryptid creatures—she still prayed that she would never catch glimpse of a Wendigo's eyes—ever since she was a toddler.<p>

She was just more discrete about it than a certain Englishman.

Both Francis and Arthur had forgotten that her precolonial history was deeply rooted with the First Nations people and that she had traces of Viking blood flowing through her veins from the first settlements in Newfoundland. Violet eyes weren't the only thing she inherited from Iceland.

She chose not to say anything in case she drew any unwanted attention, content with just listening to the fairy's babbling instead, stuffing the last of her notes into her coat—another permutation of her favourite red hoodie—as she hummed the last few words of an old children's song. She offered a smile and unconsciously signed a greeting, falling back on the sign language Alfred had taught her in the months following the Halifax explosion.

Maddie still had no idea why Arthur's invisible friends were seeking her out. There were sprites comforting her after a particularly bad day and offering to get revenge—thanks, but she was still more than capable of getting back at someone, fairies hanging out in her garden with the fireflies, brownies occasionally joining her for breakfast—it turned out they liked maple syrup as much as she did, a winged mint-coloured rabbit playing with Kumajirou…

Perhaps it was because she knew all too well what it was like to be invisible to others. There was a high mischievous giggle from Malcolm as she heard the unexpected and purposeful stride of footsteps headed towards her.

"Back already, Aled?" She asked in surprise, not looking up as she absently played with a star-shaped earring, one of the gifts from Arthur's brothers when she finally gained independence. "I thought you were supposed to meet up with Alistair and Aidan."

Arthur flinched, making an undignified startled sound. He felt confused—like he got the wind knocked out of him. "Honestly poppet, I know you need glasses, but you're the last person I expect this from. I'm England, not Wales."

His hands clenched into fists unconsciously as something unwanted lanced through him. He was not jealous that the Canadian seemed so close with his brothers. And he was certainly not noticing how adorable she looked in white stockings and a red hooded coat. He was… he was… he was looking at the little bonsai tree that Kiku had left near Maddie's seat earlier.

Yes, that was it.

_Damn it, he was staring at the tree! _

"_Tabernak!_" She swore as she shot up, bangs falling over wide eyes and face flushed in embarrassment as she realized her mistake. "For the love of Trudeau, I didn't mean to! Aled was just here a little while ago and… and… oh maple." She stuffed her hands in her pockets in defeat. "I guess I don't really have an excuse, do I?" For once, she wished she could just will herself into invisibility.

"Madeline, love, calm down."

Arthur hesitated for a split second before laying a hand on her shoulder, stopping a flurry of stammered apologies. He was half afraid that she would politely shrug him off and slip away at the first opportunity.

"It's alright." He said soothingly, thumb gently stroking the tiny Canadian's shoulder—something he hadn't done since she was a child. "I know it was an honest mistake." _And I'm sure I bloody deserved it anyways_.

Maddie's shoulders once again curved into a slouch under his ministrations—she still had a mild case of scoliosis from when she was a colony—as she sighed in relief.

"I really am sorry though, Arthur." A comfortable silence fell between them as she tipped her head to the side and gave him a good long look. "But now that I think about it, there _is_ a strong family resemblance."

Arthur was about to ask if Alfred had been force feeding her fast food again when something clicked in his mind.

"You're making fun of me," he accused as he loomed over her, murmuring voice velvety and low, a free hand sliding up to join her other shoulder. And no, he was not pouting, thank you very much.

Maddie swallowed thickly, craning her neck to peer up at him as she cursed her eternal shortness. She did not possess the tall willowy frame that Francis and his former colonies—her sisters—shared. The northern nation had taken after her _tante _Catherine instead, curves and all, but Maddie liked to think that she also got the diminutive nation's intelligence for compensation.

Hell's Gate and Galoshes, it was so not fair that Arthur, still long and lean after all these centuries, was still so much taller than her—she barely even reached his chin—despite the fact that he was shorter than Al. And the big bad Englishman definitely had no right looking like he was going to eat her up, former pirate or not.

"Well…" A small hand clasped around his wrist while the other rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. She smiled sheepishly and had the audacity to look _bashful_, but he still caught the spark of mischief in her eyes. "Maybe just a little."

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Maddie breathed in the scent of Earl Grey tea, leather, and dusty tomes buried under Arthur's favourite cologne; saw the scar on his chin from when Alistair tried to slam a rock into his face during a heated tussle that she realized they were almost nose to nose. They simultaneously sprang apart, babbling apologies and looking everywhere but each other.<p>

The swell in her heart spilled over as Arthur's earlier words almost bowled her over. _He remembered my name_. It was probably insignificant—he could have just gotten lucky this time—and she shouldn't be reveling in the moment because she was probably going to be let down the next time she talked with him, but she couldn't stop from ducking her head and smiling.

And, if she could be so bold, it was kind of nice being called Madeline for once instead all the never ending nicknames. Why deprive herself of this little bit of joy? She froze. Wait, what was she _thinking_?

Sure she liked Arthur well enough—she was a part of the Commonwealth after all and could weather his temper as well as Al and Francis, if not his cooking—but he often forgot who she was or confused her for her southern neighbour. Which absolutely made no sense because she didn't look the least bit like a boy. Okay, so she did wear hoodies and hockey jerseys half the time, but that was no excuse.

Or maybe Arthur thought that Al looked like a girl. There _was_ that time where Al came to a meeting half-asleep and dressed as a Catholic schoolgirl much to everyone's confusion—she had a funny feeling that the fairies had a hand in that.

But she digressed.

"—I swear you're worse than that wine guzzling prick." Arthur thundered, oblivious to Maddie's daydreaming thoughts. "And another thing—"

"—_eh?_" She blinked owlishly as she came back to earth, a little jumbled and upset and perhaps a little more offended than she let on.

"No, no," Arthur hastily backtracked in a mad scramble to explain himself, a hand knotted in his hair. "Blast, that wasn't meant for you," he continued to ramble. "It was—I just… _oh bollocks_…" He shot the now hysterical fairy a vicious scowl. "This is entirely _your_ fault!"

'?' was the intelligent thought that ran through Maddie's mind. She followed Arthur's line of sight with a quizzical expression to look at what he was glaring at… _oh right_. She mentally smacked herself for not realizing it in the first place. So much for being honour student material. She really needed to lay off the late nights watching Food Network reruns and superhero cartoons—Alfred's influence, but it wasn't too bad since _Batman: The Animated Series_ was one of his better productions.

Francis hadn't been too far off the mark when he called her _ma petite __couche-tard_.

"Your fairy friends again?"

"Unfortunately," he replied, too busy plotting the fairy's demise to notice the knowing look from the Canadian.

Inwardly, he was a little relieved that Maddie didn't seem to think he was going bloody senile, unlike certain wine bastards and childish superpowers—true, Alfred had Native American roots, but his Wiccan blood had diluted over the centuries to the point where he could only see magical creatures on Halloween.

Malcolm must have sensed the Brit's uncharitable mood because he immediately zipped behind Maddie, who was thoroughly caught off guard by the action. She squirmed as a startled giggle escaped, the fairy's wings tickling her as he burrowed into her hood.

"Malcolm." Stern dead calm laced Arthur's voice, arms crossed and emerald eyes narrowed to murderous slits. "What the bloody hell have you been doing?"

Maddie rocked back on her heels, wrinkling her nose. "You're not giving the fairies enough credit, Art." She took no notice of the nickname that slipped out as she peered over her glasses at him, Quebec's silver frames glinting in the light. "I doubt tugging on my pigtails, stealing my hair ribbons, or tickling me is the worst they've ever done."

Stealing her hair ribbons? Why on earth would they—

Oh.

_Oh!_

He had a sneaking suspicion he had just found out where the fairies had gotten the plaid ribbons used in their latest prank against Alfred.

Arthur gave Malcolm a look when the fairy chose this moment to poke his head out of Madeline's hood. Before he had a chance to scold him, the fairy flew up and planted a quick tingling kiss on Maddie's cheek before disappearing with a wink, eliciting a surprised 'oh' from the now blushing Canadian. Needless to say, Arthur was not amused.

_No, not the worst they've done, but give them half a chance and they'd steal you away like I did._

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><p>"<em>IGGSTER!<em>" Arthur was jolted from his thoughts as a hurricane of blond almost sent them all toppling over like dominoes. "Quit hogging Mads and her super secret hockey muscles already. It's my turn!"

Oh right, Alfred and Maddie were supposed to be playing hockey with Ivan and the Nordic nations tonight. Arthur was seconds away from biting the boisterous attention seeker's head off when his eyes widened at what Alfred was wearing. Maddie went slack jawed in shock as she hastily covered her mouth.

"Alfred," Arthur looked at him in disbelief, eyebrows twitching violently. "What in sanity's name is that idiotic thing on your head?" All the while he was mentally chanting _America is a Weeping Angel, America is a Weeping Angel, don't blink, don't even bloody blink!_

"Hey, don't knock the hat!" The superpower pouted, sporting a hardboiled fast-talking New England accent as he proudly adjusted the brightly coloured fez. "I'm wearing a fez and fezzes are cool! Suck on that and assimilate already, why don't ya?"

"_Lovely_." The Brit drawled sarcastically.

He was about to go into another tirade when he was cut off by a peal of laughter erupting from Maddie. Both he and Alfred turned towards the Canadian. It was a bloody distracting sight. Head thrown back, cheeks freckled and full and rosy, milky throat exposed… the only other time he saw her laugh so hard was whenever he tried to speak French—and utterly failed. While he understood more than he let on, he never bothered with the accent and his pronunciation was utter shit—during her first couple of years as his colony.

"You're staring, Artie," Alfred sing-songed, Texas' steel frames glinting in the light.

Arthur merely shot him a withering look. He looked at Maddie unblinkingly, raising a monstrous eyebrow as he asked imperiously, "Are you quite done yet?"

"Don't mind me… oh maple," Maddie bubbled with breathless laughter as she waved him off, her glasses askew. "You guys can, um… just continue, eh?" She ended lamely, signing what she couldn't finish out loud.

"See," Alfred beamed with childlike exuberance, his face almost splitting in two. "Maddie likes the fez."

"Like is a generous term, brother."

"—?—"

"She's laughing at you, twit." Arthur clarified, "Not with you."

"Actually, I'm the one who gave it to him in the first place," Maddie admitted blushingly, knuckles pressed against smiling strawberry stained lips. "There was a _Doctor Who_ marathon playing on the Space Channel and I thought it was a good gift at the time." Her shoulders shook with one last snicker.

"Oh, so it's your fault?"

"Aww, don't get your boxers in a bunch, Artie. Or tighty whities or panties or whatever it is you limeys wear," the American blithely said, adopting a distinctly Texan twang—Alfred had an odd habit off lapsing into different American accents at the drop of a hat—the barked insult from Arthur going over his head as usual.

He continued with a grin, "You're just jealous that Mads gives me awesome presents—"

"Listen you wanker, I am not _jealous_—"

"—Ooh, and makes me red, white, and blue baked Alaska every year for my birthday! Mmmm_, so good_…"

Alfred drooled at the thought of chocolate cake smothered with vanilla-and-chocolate chip ice cream and topped with red-and-white striped meringue and blue maple sugar stars. Too bad Mads would only make it for him once a year. So what if he was a little unstable during a sugar high?

"And we've lost him." Arthur muttered with a roll of his eyes. He fixed a questioning gaze on Maddie. "I take it you're responsible for that chaotic mess last Fourth of July?"

She bobbed her head, cheeks burning as she stared at the scuff marks on her boots. _Here we go again_, she thought, preparing herself for a scolding… only nothing came. Clever fingers grasped her chin and tipped her face up so she would look at him. There was nothing but kind eyes and a crooked half-smile.

"Don't worry about it, pet. I'm not that angry." He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "You can make it up to me after you help get rid of that thing."

Maddie's eyebrows furrowed, but the idea of partnering up with the Brit against Al for once was rather intriguing.

"Okay then," she answered easily. "But we'll have to wait until Al's asleep though." They exchanged knowing looks, remembering what a heavy sleeper the American was. "He probably won't hear us over all the snoring."

"Ay! Only way you're getting this is over my dead body," Alfred bounced back to reality with an indignant squawk, his new accent as cacophonic as New York itself.

He grabbed Maddie in a playful headlock after she rapidly finger-spelled 'hoser' at him. Unfortunately, he once again underestimated his strength.

"Al… let go…" She managed to elbow her twin square in the gut in the middle of her struggling. "Can't breathe…"

"Get off, you bloody octopus!"

"DUDE! Not the fez!"

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><p><strong>AN:** Oh Iggy, so _tsundere_… and hopefully Maddie is adorkable enough as well. *blinks* Holy hell, did I just write this monstrosity? This thing was 19 pages when I finished writing excluding author's notes, but it's way too long for a first chapter so I had to cut it in half. Hopefully the second half will make it into the next chapter. Fun fact, Hell's Gate and Galoshes was the name of an actual town in Upper Canada in the 1880s.

So for the alternate personalities, I've got Britannia Angel!Arthur, pirate!Arthur, kid!Arthur, rake!Arthur, punk rock star!Arthur… and possibly evil!Arthur. I don't know where to start. If anyone has suggestions or ideas, I'm all ears.

Hopefully the French is accurate… French was mandatory for me up until Grade 9 so I still remember something. Here are the translations:

_tante_ = aunt

_ma petite couche-tard_ = my little night owl

So… yay? Nay? *ducks in case of flying objects* I need all the reviews and feedback I can get and if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Oh, and if anyone wants to beta for me, I'll make you cookies of your choosing!


	2. Of Angels and Altercations

**A/N:** Oh my god, thank you to everyone who reviewed and put this on their Story Alert! I still have no idea where I'm going with this so keep giving as much feedback and constructive criticism as you can… oh, and if anyone's willing to beta this, please let me know and I'll make you a cake of your choosing.

So there were a couple of questions about some of my head canon choices so I'll answer them here. PK was my grandfather's name and it's short for Purushottam Karunakaran. I named Canada's glasses Quebec as a parallel to Alfred's glasses being called Texas and I already had Halifax represented by the hearing loss in her ear. Maddie's scoliosis is meant to represent all those islands that are part of Nunavut's territory and the thing with Alfred and the fez was an excuse for me to use the Weeping Angel line.

Just so there's no confusion, Lukas is Norway, Emil is Iceland, Lena is fem!Denmark, and Zea is New Zealand. And the "sisters" that Maddie refer to are Francis' former Caribbean colonies—Guadeloupe, Martinique, etc. Again, if you have any questions or comments, just review or PM me.

Anyways, on with the show!

**Warnings:** Language, possible OOCness, possible scary imagery

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Hetalia, would Canada be a secondary character? Hell no! And of course, all credit goes to **Fallen1** for her idea about Arthur's magical friends migrating to Canada. Seriously, that's some inspired head canon. *high fives fellow Canadian*

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><p>"No, no, no." Arthur banged the hand carved spoon against the rim of the cauldron, the metallic <em>clang <em>echoing through the little room. "Turn _red_, damn it!"

It had been three weeks since the World Meeting and it seemed like Arthur, who had shut himself in a little room two steps above the attic of his house, couldn't do anything right. The bloody potion he was working on refused to cooperate with him and he needed to finish it soon, preferably before his next magic meeting with Norway and Iceland. He had just came back from a meeting at Parliament, his dark grey suit jacket draped over a chair and his tie removed, leaving him in his shirtsleeves and an unbuttoned waistcoat.

He was usually highly skilled at this—he brewed better than he baked—but he had to proceed with caution with this particular potion. If there was even the slightest deviation, the whole thing could come back to bite him in the ass. All magic, black or white, came with a price after all. But the potion was still a sickly acid green when he needed it to be blood red and his fairy friends, who usually lent a helping hand, were nowhere to be found.

He snatched a jar of Epsom salt from the wall of ingredients behind him and poured a liberal amount into the cauldron. The potion bubbled and smoked before giving way to a deep shade of plum.

_Ha, result! Now we're getting somewhere… _

As he continued to work diligently—a dash of ground heliotrope root, an owl feather, a spoonful of crushed opal—his thoughts turned to America and… ah yes, Canada. Warmth rushed through him, his eyes crinkling with genuine affection. The one with violet eyes and maple leaf-shaped barrettes in her hair. And people kept thinking he didn't know who Canada was.

They were idiots, the lot of them, especially his bastard brothers, he groused as he flipped through an ancient potions text. Forgetting someone's name was completely different from forgetting a person. He was so used to remembering people by the distinct way they looked—Alfred with Nantucket and his bomber jacket, Francis the frog with his long hair and extravagant clothes, and far too many others to recount—that he sometimes didn't bother learning their human names.

And yes, Madeline had such a talent for blending into the woodwork that he often looked past her without realizing she was there. But then Alfred would do something stupid as he was wont to do or PK would make some witty observation and her face would just light up like she was _glad_ something could be so funny—and Arthur would wonder how the hell could he be so goddamn blind to what was in front of him.

* * *

><p>"<em>Was that really necessary?" Maddie asked, soft and reproachful. "I could have just flipped Al and be done with it. Now look at you!" <em>

_Alfred, who was busy mourning over the state of his fez and muttering something about temperamental overprotective limey bastards, opened his mouth to retort that he was _so_ not that easy to flip, especially by baby sisters half his size and that she wouldn't be able to flip him even if she was a boy. He was abruptly cut off by a glare from Arthur and a simultaneous annoyed look from his twin. _

"_Git deserved it anyway," Arthur harrumphed, his nostrils flaring. "I was the bloody British Empire, mate. And if he even thinks of forgetting it—goddamn it!" He flinched as pain shot up the leg Alfred had kicked. _

"_Arthur," Maddie warned, her voice low, the look on her face reading 'do I need to drag you by your tie again'. _

_The older nation had the sense to look contrite. "Look, I know you can hold your own and—" He hissed as petite fingers gently traced a bruised jawline. "And that you don't need me to look out for you." _

_And well aware of it he was. This was the same Madeline that burned down that ingrate's White House when she had been barely been able to walk after… he repressed a shudder, not willing to say that he was still haunted by what had happened over a century ago. He reached up and caught a fluttering hand to his cheek, a flicker of something fiercely stubborn in his face as he held her gaze. His hands, rough and calloused from gunpowder burns and centuries of sword fighting and poring over important documents, relished in soft skin. _

"_But that does not mean that I have to stop worrying about you." And he wasn't about to apologize for trying to defend her either. _

_Maddie bit her lip as she slid out of his grasp. "You don't have to say things like that." A slow smile began to blossom. "But thanks." _

_Arthur wanted to argue with her—what the hell would possess her to say that to him?—to make her understand that he meant every word when he glanced over her shoulder at Alfred, who was sporting a giant shit-eating grin. He suddenly felt a little uneasy. True, the American had always been a smug one, but something about Alfred's expression was sly and screamed, dare he say it… I know something you don't. _

You're getting paranoid, old chap_, he reprimanded himself as the twins began to discuss team assignments for tonight's hockey game. _Wanker doesn't know a bloody thing at all…

"_For the last time Al, I'm already playing with Lukas, Tino, and Berwald." _

"_Aw, come on brometheus," Alfred whined, the beginnings of a black eye—courtesy of Arthur of course—blooming as he plopped the now squashed and sad-looking fez back on his head. "I _need_ Madeline 'The Wendigo' Williams on my team. My reputation as a hero is at stake!" _

_Maddie wisely didn't mention that he wanted to nickname her "The Berserker", but couldn't because Lena had claimed it first. _

"_And why do you keep calling me bro?" _

"'_Cause I can't think of any awesome nicknames with sis," he stated matter of factly. "It's impossible. Bro's just easier to riff off of. I can go on all day," Jersey crept into his voice as he went on listing nicknames. "I got bromione, broseidon, bronada, brodaline, brotemis, brosephone…" _

_Arthur exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tuned out Alfred's inane chatter and butchering of the English language. It would have been better if he had just shot the damn fez off the American's head. He ought to have been paying more attention because when he finally came back to the conversation, Maddie had uttered in horror, _

"—_you _âne_! __Please don't tell me you bet on my ass again. You should know better after the Gimli fiasco." Her cheeks burned with humiliation. "Lena _still_ won't stop calling me babe after we lost that bet!" _

"_Hey! It's not my fault Amazon Berserker Lady wants your legs! Hell, even Katyusha was kinda checking you out in those cowboy boots." _

"_Eh_?_" The Canadian exclaimed in bemusement, pausing to push her glasses back up. "She was just watching my footwork." _

_The Brit looked like he just had one of Francis' god awful lemon tarts—and no, he refused to stoop to the frog's level and call them_ tartes de citron_—shoved down his throat. His eyes began to stray down Maddie's stocking clad legs in curiosity, not even realizing what he was doing. He had to admit, they _were_ rather lovely legs. No doubt the result of hockey and lacrosse and many other activities that he could never recall… _

_Maddie glanced at him mid-outburst in concern. "Everything okay there Arthur?" _

_His head snapped back up a little too quickly, furious at himself. "Do I even want to know what the hell you two are referring to?" He ground out through gritted teeth. Don't even think about looking again, you tosser. _

"_Um," she fidgeted uneasily under his gaze. "It's probably safer if you don't." _

_It took a hell of a lot of negotiating, but Maddie was finally able to get the superpower to play with Ivan, Emil, and Lena—and yes, Al, she'll decapitate if you call her Magdalene, now pay attention. And all it took was a trip to the Calgary Stampede, baked Alaska, and a new Stetson next Fourth of July. _

"_Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Come here, you gorgeous Canuck, you," Alfred snatched her off her feet and whirled her around, making her wonder when the hell she stepped into one of her twin's Hollywood moments. "You're the best sister a hero could ask for!" He crowed before dashing off, leaving a disoriented northern nation spinning into a caught off guard Arthur's arms. "Later bromarie!" _

"_So, um…" Maddie shuffled in her boots after she disentangled herself, awkward and endearing. "I should probably be going." _

_Arthur stopped her before she could run off, calling her 'love' without a second thought as he reached out and caught her hand. "I believe it's your turn to kick Alfred's arse." _

_She chewed her lip—there was still a scar running down the middle of it from the time Alfred had accidentally split it when he hurled a chipped teacup at Arthur's face, but missed much to his horror because heroes never ever hurt their baby sisters—strawberry lip stain almost gone, but she was unable to stop a laugh from escaping. _

"_Oh, he won't know what hit him," she assured him, the smile gracing her face lopsided and radiant as she squeezed his hand in return. "I'll even flip him over the boards once for you, eh?" _

_He looked down at their joined hands, noting the aurora borealis painted on short blunt fingernails, marveling at how someone so petite could have such a firm grip. He brushed a kiss against her knuckles, lips already quirked up into the beginnings of a dimpled grin. _

"_Deal." _

* * *

><p>Arthur's attention was caught by a new arrival. "And where have you been?"<p>

His brow furrowed as he glanced up from yellowing pages at the apologizing floating creature that didn't have a name other than Flying Mint Bunny, verdant eyes glowing even in the dimness of the room. The only light was muted by the one lone window, a single wall of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling.

"Oh, don't tell me the fairies are in D.C. pranking Alfred again."

The American was still convinced that Arthur had something to do with the Catholic schoolgirl cross-dressing episode—not one of Alfred's better names for incidents that were never to see the light of day again. The Brit never heard the end of it.

_Honestly, you would think Alfred would have learned to stop calling Malcolm and the other fairies bloodsucking pixies after the San Antonio pineapple voodoo fiasco, but no, the git had to be thick headed and start a petty blood feud with invisible creatures, didn't he?_

"Not this time, no." Flying Mint Bunny said placidly, nose twitching as he peered into the cauldron. "They mentioned wanting to visit Toronto so I imagine that's where they are. They've taken such a liking to Canada's garden."

It shouldn't have been that big of a surprise since many of his land's magical creatures had migrated to Canada centuries ago with his people, in a journey to discover and explore, in search of a new start and a larger home. But visiting Madeline's garden of all places?

Arthur was bemused to say the least, especially since he had only just found out about his fairy friends' Canadian adventures after a little chat with Malcolm—at least, once he had calmed down after the World Meeting. As long as they weren't up to any serious mischief, he supposed there was no harm in his fairy friends visiting… especially since Maddie was probably on a plane to London right about now.

"Have they really?" He deftly scattered a fistful of dried rose petals into the cauldron. "That's quite a feat considering she hasn't planted any roses. You know how the fairies love them."

The rabbit looked confused as he watched the petals swirl and meld with the potion. "I thought you said that you haven't seen her garden yet."

"Of course not," Arthur said sharply, "Why would I lie about that?"

At that moment, the window rattled violently from the force of the wind pounding against it. Arthur cursed as he rushed to the window, but paused when he moved to close the drapes. The little room at the top of the old Kirkland house had the most fantastic view of the London night time, but Arthur had to be careful not to press himself against the wide window for a better look, especially when raw untapped magic reverberated through the room.

Were it not for the protection barriers he put up… oh, he was getting vertigo just thinking about it.

"Then how did you know Maddie doesn't have roses?" Flying Mint Bunny asked, but he was only greeted with silence.

_I don't_.

A voice murmured in the back of Arthur's mind as he looked out into the murky darkness, suddenly assaulted by a memory from so very long ago. Soft curls and red ribbons, shoulders slumped as she curled into herself like a rosebud still waiting to blossom, a flash of the aurora borealis in violet eyes and a shy brilliant smile as she reached up...

He shook his head. _Belt up already, _he thought with a frown before yanking the drapes shut. The elements were clearly out of his favour and it was too bloody cliche to be working on a potion tonight. He was not a mad scientist for crying out loud… an alchemist, perhaps, but he couldn't just leave the potion unfinished.

"Right then," he cleared his throat. "Help me look for the eye of newt."

It wasn't until now that the rabbit's earlier words hit him like a hippogriff's hoof to the face.

"What do you _mean_ not this time?"

* * *

><p>Maddie called out another apology over her shoulder, hugging Kumajirou close as she continued to pinball her way through the crowd. Since when was London so crowded this early in the morning? She abruptly twisted to dodge another disgruntled Londoner in the middle of re-clipping a maple leaf-shaped barrette, only to knock her shoulder against a lamppost.<p>

"_Crisse!_" She slung her overstuffed overnight bag over her shoulder. "I'm just all angles this morning." She glanced down at the little polar bear. "Must be the jet lag, eh Kuma?"

"Who?"

"I'm Canada," she mumbled laughingly into his fur. _Silly old bear._ "And before you ask, we're going to England's house."

The next World Meeting was to take place in London and Arthur had called her up out of the blue a couple of days ago, inviting her to visit him for the week. She had barely managed to convince the older nation that he didn't need to pick her up from the airport—even though he insisted he was perfectly capable of doing so and was she sure that she remembered the way to his house?

But she knew that Arthur hated to be disturbed so early in the morning and she didn't want to give him a reason to break yet another alarm clock. Her flight had touched down at five or so in the morning and the Canadian, still soft and mussed with sleep, had a taxi drive her from Heathrow and drop her off in Arthur's neighbourhood.

The weather in London was a little chilly for early spring, but it was nothing to Maddie, who was dressed in a short sleeved version of her usual red hoodie over a white-and-grey striped shirt and indigo shorts. High cream-coloured socks, a white toque, and a pair of old brown combat boots completed the look. She could already hear Arthur lecturing her—_just because you're Canadian does not meant you're invulnerable to illness. Now go put on some warmer clothes, silly chit_.

Despite the jet lag, mornings were her favourite time of day. Even after opening up and starting new friendships with the other nations, she still loved to relax in her kitchen with no unexpected guests for breakfast—and by guests, she meant those gluttons Al and Gilbert—just basking in the warmth of first sunlight and the smell of fresh made pancakes as she watched the sunrise from the kitchen window.

Ever since she was little, Maddie would get up before dawn—much to Al's annoyance because he wanted to pull the covers over his head, sleep in and keep dreaming heroic dreams—sit on the front gate and watch the sun come up over the horizon and paint the sky dusty pink and vivid orange. It was a great comfort during her first years as a British colony during a time when the pain of Francis' abandonment, of missing her sisters and _tante_ Catherine was still fresh.

And in England, the sunrise was no less beautiful.

Maddie grew contemplative as she went on her way. Arthur's invitation was in no way unwelcome, but she couldn't help but wonder—no, she thought with a rough shake of her head. If she let herself go down there again, all those ugly little insecurities would come barreling to the surface.

Al was Arthur's favourite, the golden boy, the prodigal son.

It was an indisputable fact, one that the past had recounted time and time again. She was sure that Arthur had never meant to set up a rivalry between them and she could never blame Al for any of it. But her southern neighbour was good looking and brave and everything Arthur could ever want and she knew from an early age that the older nation's love for the twin colonies was not equal.

And it was okay. Maddie had gradually reconciled with it over the centuries… well, she remembered with a giggle as she rested her chin on Kumajirou's head, except for that one time when she and Al were still kids, where she had decided to change her appearance in a desperate attempt to stand apart from her brother.

She had been envious of Alistair's hair and she still was. Copper red as bright as the sun, such a stark contrast to sandy blond Arthur and Aled and dark haired Aidan. So she had bought a bottle of hair dye on a whim so that her hair would match his. That way Maddie would never be mistaken for Al again.

… Her hair turned out as green as Arthur's eyes.

The Canadian briefly remembered relating the event to a woman named Lucy not long afterwards, but it wasn't until much later that she realized the hair dye fiasco had made its way into _Anne of Green Gables_.

Arthur had tried everything to strip the dye from her hair, stopping short of using magic because he didn't want to make things worse. But nothing could be done about it and he had been forced to cut her hair and reduce it to chin length curls. There was a long solitary curl that kept bobbing in front of her face no matter how many times Arthur stopped what he was doing and smoothed it back. She went cross eyed trying to look at it and got her first pair of glasses soon afterwards.

Maddie had ended up looking even more like Al, who jokingly started introducing her to people as his twin brother Matthew. It earned him a well aimed snowball to the face. It didn't help that she was still fairly androgynous at that age and could pass for a rather feminine looking boy, though unlike Zea, Maddie eventually grew out of it.

Oh, how _tante_ Catherine had cringed when she found out! But she wasn't nearly as bad as Francis who, dramatic as ever, threatened to declare war for what _le rosbif_ had inflicted on his _pauvre chere_.

But Maddie, the invisible daughter, forever asking for little more than acknowledgement to make her happy, would remember how Arthur pressed his cheek to hers after snipping one last curl, kissed the top of her curly head after brushing her hair each night, his apology smeared into her hair as he weaved words of old magic… _Madeline, Madeline, let your hair grow long_…

It was then that she started to believe that perhaps the older nation was fond of her as well.

* * *

><p>"England?" Maddie was well aware of how pitiful she looked—knocking on the door repetitively, Kumajirou sniffing at her feet asking "who?" and <em>please don't tell me you forgot I was coming.<em> "Are you home? It's Canada, not America!"

Maybe she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. The last time she came to visit, Arthur wasn't even home because he had gone out drinking the night before and she ended up having to nurse him through a hangover the rest of her visit.

But, she contemplated in afterthought, it was kind of sweet that Arthur had put up the brass owl-shaped door knocker she gave him—which looked surprisingly cared for, all proud and polished—after he had been forced to get a new front door. Al had been responsible for breaking the last one, having knocked so hard that his fist flew straight through the door.

Maybe she should just let herself in. Arthur kept forgetting to give her a key to the house, but he did show her where he hid the spare key just in case—under strict condition that she didn't tell Al or Francis, of course. The Brit was still smarting over the great key forgery debacle last year.

She felt something poke her back, but a quick look showed that there wasn't anyone close by. One of Arthur's magical friends, maybe? Really, it was too early in the morning to deal with them, especially when she was being pushed inch by inch towards the door. The pushing stopped for a second or two when a sudden shove from behind made her stumble forward like a baby giraffe.

"Wha—?" Maddie exclaimed, eyes comically wide, whirling around to find Malcolm hovering behind her. She was vaguely aware of a little freckle-faced boy looking at her in bright-eyed curiosity, thumb in his mouth as he walked by with his oblivious mother. "Malcolm, what did you do that for?"

She heard snatches of babbling wails, snippets of an ancient forgotten tongue, but the Canadian could already tell that something was wrong from Malcolm's frantic attempts to get her inside. She sprang into action, immediately climbing the front step railing to reach the overgrowth of ivy framing the doorway. But patience was not one of the fairy's strong suits and he deliberately yanked one of her pigtails to hurry her along, producing a flinch from the northern nation.

"Just a sec, Malcolm…" She fumbled as she pushed away the curtain of ivy before… "Ha, success!" Maddie grinned as she whipped out an old fashioned key from its hiding place.

But Malcolm kept shoving and urging frantically, even as she jumped off the railing. He was going to push through the door at this rate. The fairy zipped inside as soon as she swung the door open. Kumajirou lumbered inside, dragging in her overnight bag and curled up on the Oriental hallway carpet not long afterwards. And it was a mad dash trying to keep up as Maddie raced after Malcolm, the toll of the antique grandfather clock in the front hallway dull and heavy on her ears.

* * *

><p>The Canadian was out of breath, her knees ready to buckle and give way, but she finally skidded to a halt in front of where Malcolm had been leading her—the door to a room two steps above the attic and damn it, it was locked!<p>

She glanced questioningly at the fairy. "Can you get it open?"

Malcolm shook his head woefully. He flitted to the door, only to be thrown back by something crackling and electric. Maddie inched forward, gingerly touching the door when she felt it—powerful and pulsating. Some sort of barrier? Now what?

She tapped a finger against the ornate doorknob, absently signing as she mumbled, "What do I do?" A hand came up to push back a loose hairpin when an idea slowly took form.

_Huh, I wonder…_

* * *

><p>Sweet maple, she had never been so glad that Al strong armed her into learning how to pick locks. But that didn't mean she was going to reconsider her brother's "awesome" idea about the RCMP and the US Department of Treasury teaming up to deal with international heists. Seriously, just because they were on the list of "Organizations You Didn't Know Were Secretly Badass"…<p>

Maddie grinned when she finally heard that telltale _click_ and _tabernak, the door was heavy!_ She put all her weight into it, wishing she had some of Al's super strength for once, the door finally creaking open.

The sight that met her… it looked like a bomb had gone off. The glass wall had completely shattered, broken glass littering the floor. Bottles were overturned and ingredients had spilled everywhere. Curling black smoke was rising from a small metal cauldron on the nearby counter. And lying unconscious in the middle of it all—

"Oh no, what did you do?"

Maddie rushed over, cringing as glass crunched under each step, spying a broken beaker within Arthur's reach that was sticky with remnants of a blood red substance. A potion perhaps? She knelt gingerly, mindful of the glass as she scrambled to see if the older nation was okay. She knew for a fact that nations couldn't even die, but it didn't comfort her a bit. He wasn't even breathing, but oh… there was a pulse, there was _definitely_ a pulse!

The Canadian immediately tried to push the air back into Arthur's lungs, mentally counting each compression, with little success. There was only one option left, but something was making her hesitate.

_What are you waiting for_; she screamed at herself, still chewing on her lip. _A written invitation? It's just Arthur!_

Her shoulders slumped with shame. Maybe she was a little afraid that he would wake up and mistake her for Al again. She wrung her hands nervously, her gaze flickering up to Arthur's face. He must have drunk some of the potion because his mouth was smeared with it, the deep crimson on parted lips painting a ghastly contrast against pale skin.

_Come on, you can do this._

Maddie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She crushed her lips against his.

* * *

><p>The northern nation sure as hell didn't expect honest-to-goodness golden <em>sparks<em> before she had the chance to breathe much needed air into the older nation's lungs. She pulled back in perplexity, about to call Malcolm for help when a still unconscious Arthur abruptly snatched her left hand.

Maddie would have shrieked if this was one of her twin's bad horror movies. There was a cough and a startled gasp and the older nation snapped awake, mouth parted and his chest heaving. His eyes briefly turned liquid red-tinted gold before fading back to familiar green.

He still hadn't let go of her hand.

She waited until he caught his breath, absentmindedly rubbing the hand that was closed around hers. She bit her lip out of habit, a question on the tip of her tongue. Unfortunately, she slipped and lost control of her balance, knobbly sock-covered knees and her right hand landing right into a patch of glass shards with a bloody _crunch_. Bright red bloomed against white where the glass bit into her skin.

"Maple!"

She screwed her eyes at the harsh sting, not realizing that Arthur had grabbed her round the waist and pulled her up with him. The sound of harsh breathing filled the room as she clutched his shirt with her good hand, her face buried in his clavicle. _Dear Trudeau_, she inwardly wailed, this was so embarrassing… she had hockey injuries that were worse that this!

"Alright there, love?" Arthur asked softly as he rubbed her back in soothing circles, a sandpaper rough cheek brushing against hers. Maddie simply nodded, not quite trusting herself not to squeak or whimper. She was content just staying where she was, her nose nuzzling the hollow of his throat as he dropped a kiss on top of her head. Funny, she couldn't remember the last time he was so comforting and affectionate.

Wait a minute…

An eye cracked open as she glanced down.

Why on earth were they floating?

Both eyes flew open as they snapped back up to Arthur. There was a concerned look on his face, but what really caught her attention was the fact that he had _wings!_ They were no doubt a magnificent pair, graceful and arching, feathers pure as snow with the faintest gleam of silver. Maddie was immersed in thinking how surreal this was as the Brit made a smooth landing.

What the hell did that potion do?

She nervously jerked away when he tried to unfurl her bleeding hand, stammering an automatic apology and Hell's Gate and Galoshes, what was wrong with her? She wasn't normally this jumpy. She was so caught up in berating herself what she missed the brief flicker of hurt in the older nation's eyes before his usual frown once again masked his face, massive eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a thin line, made even more severe by the potion staining his lips.

"Stop being so bloody stubborn Madeline," he said impatiently, hands akimbo. "Let me have a look."

She looked away. "It doesn't hurt that bad," she weakly protested, her cheeks suspiciously red.

Sharp green eyes caught a wince. "Arthur was right," he muttered.

He conjured a star-shaped wand seemingly from out of nowhere and with a swish and a flick; everything in the room was back to the way it was. Even the shattered glass leaped to the window frame and instantaneously pieced back together. It was like nothing had happened in the first place.

"Christ, you're a terrible liar."

Maddie froze at his words. Why—? Something clicked in her mind and she went breathless with shock, cursing herself for being so slow. Everything made terrible sense all of a sudden in a creepy_ Are You Afraid of the Dark_ twist.

"You're not Arthur."

"Finally, she gets it!" the man crowed. He reached out, lingering as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his voice low and husky. "And I thought you were supposed to be the clever one, poppet."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** In case it wasn't clear, Arthur had the potion the night before and Maddie arrived the morning after. And Maddie was also trying to do mouth to mouth before all the weirdness happened.

It's my personal head canon that Canada is very active and has amazing legs, no matter what gender. I'm talking lacrosse in the summer, hockey and figure skating in the winter, horseback riding whenever in Alberta, shooting, camping, skiing, snowboarding, field hockey, ballet and various forms of dancing—because you so know that Francis forced lessons on little!Canada—and anything that involves climbing or hiking or running. Not to mention those fencing lessons—Canada's got a national fencing team after all—with fem!Spain.

So, that was Britannia Angel's introduction. Not the best I could do, but it did give me a chance to work in some _Are You Afraid of the Dark?_ A little nostalgia for all you Canadians who grew up watching this in the '90s. So what personality should pop up next? Kid!Arthur, pirate!Arthur, or something I didn't list in the previous chapter? Review and let me know 'cause I have no idea.

The next update may take a couple of weeks since I'm going to be starting school soon. As always, feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome and flames will be used to roast s'mores. Anyways, to keep you guys happy until then, here's a little _omake_! This one's from Alfred's POV entitled "In Which Alfred is Smarter than He Lets On".

By the way, the song is Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's "When It Comes to Love"… enjoy!

* * *

><p>The superpower looked over his shoulder just in time to see his sister crash into an unmovable wall of sarcastic Englishman, who hastily wrapped her in a protective hug before she could fall. Maddie, in turn, scrabbled for purchase and ended up clinging to Arthur's shoulders.<p>

Unfortunately for Alfred, she was turned away from him so he couldn't see her reaction, but he'd bet all his nukes that she was embarrassed…

Again.

Whoops!

That totally wasn't on purpose, cross his heart and all that shit.

He overheard Artie telling Mads that she just gave him the perfect excuse to go throttle that idiot—_hey!_ He was trying to make another classic movie moment, damn it! Alfred stomped his foot childishly and had half a mind to troll the under appreciative old timer for wasting his heroic efforts when he saw Arthur's cheeks turn a funny shade of pink.

Huh, that was new.

…

Wait a tick, was Iggy actually _blushing?_

He was! Cue dramatic gasp. Oh, this was good… he inwardly cackled with glee. He _so_ should have brought his camera for blackmail. _England never blushes, my ass!_

Alfred smirked as he strutted away, proud as a peacock. Seriously, since when did Iggy get so… gah, he had no clue. Cute? Adorable? Such a… what was that word Kiku used to describe Iggy again? Oh yeah, such a _tsundere_?

The superpower whistled cheerfully, his mind playing a Big Bad Voodoo Daddy song—hey, he wasn't all about Lady Gaga all the time and he did help pioneer the Jazz age after all. Man those were some good times!

_It's like a long cold walk on a winter beach_

_Love is a game you cannot teach_

_When it comes to love_

_I'm in love with you_

_And I need some advice…_


End file.
